Saboteurs in Dorset
set their sights on the shooting industry, with the aim of ending the
mindless slaughter of innocent creatures.

The pheasant pen,
feeders and shooting platform were soon located tucked away in a strip
of woodland.

As we hacked at the
feeders with our axes, we came across another little delight of this so-called
"sport" - a dead mouse rotting amongst the grain. Evidently
he or she had gone inside to eat and ended up trapped.

Next the pen was given
our specialist treatment, as panel by panel we ripped it to shreds, leaving
it strewn across the farmer's neatly ploughed field. Never again will
it be able to enslave innocent creatures to serve man's greedly bloodlust.

Finally we dealt with
the shooting platform. With sitting room for only one asshole, this guy
can't have many friends. Perhaps he mistook them for birds and shot them
all. Not exactly the brightest of people, after all. The platform was
about as stable as a hunter's mentality and - after some serious re-working
- ended up as twisted too. Last thing we saw, it could be seen poking
above the long grass, far away from its original resting place.

Try as hard as you
want to hide your dirty little secrets, we're always watching and always
will be.